Piper laid a hand on his elbow. “I’m sorry.”
“Hell, you’re his daughter.” He reared back. “I’m the one should be comforting you.”
“I wish . . . Well, we don’t remember much about him at all. And our mother . . .”
“She was hurting too much to fill in the blanks, I’m guessing. That’s not unusual, you know. Wives of fishermen come from tough stock. They have nerves of steel. My wife has them, passed them on to my daughter, Desiree.” He gave a nod. “You might have met her husband, Brendan, the other night when you arrived.”
Desiree. That was Brendan’s late wife’s name? Just like that, she was real. Someone with a personality. Someone with a face, a voice, a presence.
Sadness had turned down the sides of his mouth at the mention of his daughter. “Wives of fishermen are taught to lock up their fears, get on with it. No crying or complaining. Your mother rebelled against the norm a little, I suppose. Couldn’t find a way to cope with the loss, so she picked up and left. Started over in a place that wouldn’t remind her of Westport. Can’t say I wasn’t tempted a time or two to do the same after my daughter passed, but I found it was worth staying the course.”
Piper’s throat felt tight. “I’m sorry. About your daughter.”
Mick nodded once, weariness walking across his face. “Listen, I’ve got a lot more to tell you. Since you’re staying awhile, I figure we’ll have chances. A lot of us locals remember your father, and we never miss a chance to reminisce.” He took a piece of paper out of his back pocket, handed it over to Piper. An address was written on it, blunt but legible. “Speaking of locals, I figured there’s one who’d be more eager to catch up than any of us. This here is the address for Opal. I wasn’t sure if you’d had a chance to stop over and see her yet.”
Was Opal a woman Piper was supposed to know?
No clue.
But after visiting Henry’s memorial and not being moved the way she should have been, she wasn’t up for admitting her cluelessness, on top of the lingering guilt. Plus, there was something else she’d been wondering about and didn’t want to miss her chance to ask.
“Opal. Of course.” Piper folded up the piece of paper, debating whether or not she should ask her next question. “Mick . . . how exactly did Henry . . . ?” She sighed and started over. “We know it happened at sea, but we don’t know the details, really.”
“Ah.” He removed his hat, pressed it to the center of his chest. “Rogue wave is what did it. He was standing there one minute, gone the next. She just snatched him right off the deck. We always thought he must have hit his head before going into the drink, because no one was a stronger swimmer than Henry. He had to be out cold when he went overboard. And that Bering Sea water is so damn frigid, there’s only a minute’s window before it sucks the breath right out of a man’s lungs.”
A shudder caught her off guard, goose bumps lifting on every inch of her skin. “Oh my God,” she whispered, imagining the robust man made of brass being pitched over the side of a boat, sinking to the bottom of the ocean all alone. Cold. Did he wake up or just drift off? She hoped it was the latter. Oddly, her thoughts strayed to Brendan. Was he safe when he ventured out on the water? Was all fishing this dangerous? Or just crab fishing? “That’s terrible.”
“Yeah.” Mick sighed and replaced his hat, reaching out to pat her awkwardly on the shoulder. Until he touched her, Piper didn’t realize her eyes were wet. “I promise I won’t make you cry every time I see you,” he said, obviously trying to lighten the mood.
“Just once in a while?” She laughed.
Amusement lit his eyes again. “Here now, listen. We’re having a little party on Friday night. Just us locals having some drinks, a potluck. Sharing memories. Consider yourself and Hannah invited.” He pointed toward the harbor. “Up that way, there’s a bar called Blow the Man Down. We’ll be in the party room downstairs, around eight in the evening. I hope we’ll see you there.”
“I do love a party.” She winked at him, and he blushed.
“All right, then.” He gave her the signature Westport hat tip. “Great meeting you, Piper. You have a good day now.”
“You too, Mick.”
“Henry Cross’s daughter,” he muttered, heading off. “Hell of a thing.”
Piper stood and watched him walk for a little before going inside. She didn’t want to interrupt Hannah’s Zoom call, so she took a seat on one of the barrels, letting the quiet settle around her. And for the first time, No Name felt like a little more than four walls.